


As Time Goes By

by ZaiaFantasy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaiaFantasy/pseuds/ZaiaFantasy
Summary: Faith has always been a misfit in the Scooby gang, delighting in making the others squirm. But for Giles, what started as a mistake one night comes back to haunt him years later.





	1. Prologue

“Alls I’m sayin’ is that I did a lot in the name of the greater good tonight and I think I deserve a reward.”

“I shudder to think what you could possibly have in mind.”

He trailed after her into the library, watching discontentedly as she settled on the table, with a chair directly next to her that was purposefully designed for such a thing. Her feet were planted in the seat and he despaired a little inside. Would this lot never use furniture for its intended purpose? She looked horribly pleased with herself and, in truth, she’d done terribly well. The ashes of six vampires they left behind said so, and a small seed of pride was blossoming in his heart for her. Or, at least it would if she didn’t insist on speaking and breaking the moment. He tried to stem his annoyance and head this off at the pass. Having a young woman around was not a new experience, but there was already too much about her that reminded him of darker days, far too headstrong for his good.

“There’s a saying about accomplishment being its own reward, Faith,” he ventured, though it was clearly a waste of breath before it was ever spoken. He sighed. “What on Earth could you consider a reward? I will not condone under aged drinking.”

Though she was eighteen, that was still below legal drinking age in America and he intended to stick to that.

“Nuts to that! I want something real.” 

She laughed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. The similarly dark eyes wandered over him, taking him in in a sense that was alarmingly effective at making him feel vulnerable. He nearly gathered his jacket a little tighter around his body, hiding behind layers of tweed. The question, when it came, was just as appalling as he imagined it would be.

“When’s the last time someone got up on that?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When’s the last time someone fucked you, G?”

“I completely fail to understand how you could possibly think this is an appropriate discussion for the two of us to be having. You’re very young and I’m -”

“I may be young, but I’m not exactly young.” She let her leather jacket slither from her shoulders onto the dark wooden table.

“Regardless,” he sighed, “it is not a subject I’m allowing on the table for discussion.”

“I get it.” 

As she nodded he breathed out a small sigh of relief, turning to get something appropriate for them both, like the pot of tea he was desperately craving to calm his sensible British nerves. He put the pot on his hot plate, warming the water with two mugs at the ready. He didn’t know how she liked it, never having spent much time alone with her before, and he pushed a hand through his hair before returning to ask. 

The mug crashed to the ground from nerveless fingers and splintered, though he wasn’t paying a whit of attention to it or its new state of being.

She was sitting in front of him on the table, where he left her, only her clothes were in a pile off to the side. One leg was propped up on the chair, the other dangling off the side of the table. She was leaning back a little, braced on one arm, and the other was, God help him, the other was…

A low moan punctuated the air between them. His or hers, he couldn’t tell.

“Faith.” 

The sound was pathetic but he couldn’t muster any will to make it louder or more authoritative. It came out questioning, helpless, in a tone he didn’t recognize. He let out a shuddering breath. Against his will he quite suddenly found his pants to be two sizes too tight with no way to hide the burgeoning erection. The words to make her stop drifted in his mind and he was unable to hold onto them for even a few seconds at a time, let alone try to articulate them. 

“What are you doing?”

She raised her head and looked at him, as if she hadn’t already been perfectly aware that he was standing by, watching as her hands searched for self pleasure.

“You’re the Watcher, right?” She asked, at once a coy seductress. “So watch.”

Two fingers plunged into her dripping hole causing a deep moan in her throat. It was beyond torture; the erection throbbing between his legs was all but begging for attention he didn’t dare give it. It took every ounce of his resolve not to go to her and fill her to the brim. All of his better sense may have left him but thank God he at least managed to restrain himself from that. Propriety was still having its small stand but it was in a losing battle against shock and lust. 

“Stop this.” He managed pitifully.

“Make me,” came the reply, an unmistakable challenge. “Make me come.” She amended. 

He swallowed hard and blessedly did not move one way or another.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Faith, but there are rules. Étiquette. What’s happening here is -”

“Is what, G?”

“It’s…”

“I’m waiting.” 

Her fingers were still moving inside her body, straying up to toy with her clit for a while before sliding in again. Her breathing was ragged from her exertions, moans punctuating her statements. They filled the air in a thick fog, clouding his senses and making protests harder to form. He was not this man, not to be seduced by a girl that had much more in common with him than he would ever like to admit. A girl more than half his age. A girl that...that…

She came with a loud cry, a cry of his name that filled the library’s usual quiet with rich, pleasured sound. The sound of his name on her lips like that thrilled beyond measure, though he’d never admit to it aloud, under pain of torture. Her hips moved erratically with her hand’s movements calling attention to the look of her clenching around the invading digits with a Slayer’s control. He closed his eyes at long last, trying to block it out of his head. Blessedly he managed to turn his back on her, but not to leave the room.

“You’ve had your fun, Faith. Put your clothes on and go home.”

“Aren’t you Watchers supposed to be all full service or something?”

“I’ve already done far more than I ever should have. I will not violate you in such a way. Go home, Faith, for Christ’s sake.”

Her feet touched the floor, he could hear it and silently begged her not to come any closer. She didn’t.

“Are you sure, G? We could have a little fun. I could drag you into the stacks for a good time; no one would ever have to know.”

“I’d know.” He shook his head, heard the rustle of clothing. Thank God. “You are young, exotic, alluring, and beautiful. Someday you’ll make some young man very happy but here, now, I am not the one to do this thing. Lord, you’re hardly older than a child! You can’t possibly want someone like me.”

“But I do.” The words came out quiet but assured. 

“No, truly, you don’t. And what’s more it’s inappropriate. I won’t explain to you all the myriad reasons why but believe me when I tell you that you will look back on this day and thank me for keeping my distance and sending you home.”

“We’ll see.”

The footfalls of her leaving the library were a symphony of relief to his ears. She was running, the doors swinging wildly on her hinges as she passed and only once they had slowed did he let out the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and look to where she’d been. He could still see her there, hear her moaning his name. His solid phallus said he’d remember that well into the night until he could take a cold shower or will it away. He went to go fetch a broom and swept up the mug’s debris and then cleaned all traces of her from the table’s surface. By the time he fetched his jacket from his office to go home the trembling had stopped. By the time he managed to unlock his front door and stumbled to the liquor cabinet his erection had managed to subside in half. The healthy tumbler of scotch he poured was sure to take care of the rest of it.


	2. Just a taste

“Faith, a moment?”

He was sitting at the counter, tea kettle on the stove with two mugs sitting out in front of him. She paused, looking toward the stairs and debating blowing him off to head up them to bed. These wee hours before morning were the only real quiet hours in the house and she’d rather use them while she had them, before the band of wannabes woke up and made everything a big ball of chaotic noise. Instead she straightened up a little and sighed, turning away from the entry toward the kitchen.

“What can I do you for, G?”

“I thought we might talk about things.”

“Talk?” She looked at him, her brows furrowed. “We don’t talk.”

“This seems like the time to start with the First on its campaign. You’ve been a bit thrown to the wolves. I must say, I’m impressed by how you’re taking it.”

“I’m just rolling with the punches, is all.”

“Yes, but I know this can’t be easy with the past the way it is. Things have changed so much since you were first sent to Sunnydale. I’ve noticed. I want you to know I’ve seen it. I appreciate it.”

“I’m doin’ my best, G. If the entire world is threatening to stop turning, I kind think I should throw my weight behind the team tryin’ to keep it spinning.”

“I’m here, if you need me. I know I haven’t been available much, with everything, but I’m here for you now.”

He sighed, taking the whistling kettle and pouring water into the waiting mugs, sliding one her way as the brown color started to leech out of the leaves. It swirled and eddied in the steaming water like so much paint, coloring it as it flavored. He watched it for a long moment, trying to frame his words precisely. He never knew on what ground he was treading with her and that uncertainty left him groping for the right thing to say. He thought a life surrounded by words, fluent in seven languages, would have left him better prepared for instances like this. She was not the only one that had grown, after all.

“Are we never to talk about it, then?” He managed, referring to a night a very long time ago. 

“What do you want me to say?” She bristled, knowing what he was talking about without him saying it aloud.

“Something. Anything.”

“I’m not saying thank you.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“You told me once that I would, thank you. Still not thinkin I should.”

He blinked at her, memories flooding of a night he’d been much too successful in blocking from his mind until that moment. He remembered how it felt, what he told her, and could not have predicted the wide muddy path between then and now. She’d grown so much in the interim, changed into the strong woman he saw before him now. Her eyes were searching him, his face, but for what he could only imagine. How had they never managed a moment like this before to talk about it.

“It wasn’t right, Faith. You must know now that it wasn’t right.”

“Right or not, I knew what I wanted.”

Wanted. He shook his head, trying not to let that be a blow to his ego. 

“Yes. I’m very aware of how capable you are of choosing for yourself. You made a good show of it.”

“You never touched me. I gave you plenty of reason to.”

“No. There’s no way I could have allowed that.” He sighed. “Faith you were underaged, and vulnerable. I am not that man, as I explained to you then. I could not have lived with myself if I had taken advantage of you.”

“Do you ever think things might have been different if you had?”

“I hardly think that violating you in that manner would have been the difference. There are plenty of things I might have done to reach out to you but yielding to you that night was not one of them.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He picked up his mug and took a sip to calm his nerves. He had nothing to be ashamed of but all the same his stomach was tied in knots talking about it. If he were honest with himself she was still the same way he described her all those years ago: vibrant, beautiful. She was even of legal age now, if he dared allow himself to think it. He was trying desperately to block such thoughts, knowing that the moment had passed. She cleared her throat, slipping from the barstool she was sitting on. 

“I’m all grown now, G.” He swallowed as her jacket again slid from her shoulders and she set it on the island next to her. “Is that why you brought it up? Still curious on what you were missing out on?”

“No, that’s not why I -”

She kissed him, God help him, and he tugged her to his body despite his protests. He sunk his fingers into her rich hair and tasted her as if for the last time. It was, he swore it was, but for now he was lost to the way she felt pressed to his body. She demanded; he gave. She moaned and he returned with a deep rumble in his chest. Magnificent, she took everything she wanted from him and he could hardly be bothered to care, wanting to experience every moment to remember if this was going to be the one time he gave in. Too soon he pulled away to a sound of protest. She was watching him with half lidded eyes, a look he recognized and desperately wanted to satisfy.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, Faith.”

“Why not?”

“You’re still searching for something. I wanted closure on what happened but I can see bringing it up wasn’t the right thing to do.”

“Give me a reason to stop searching. You held onto it all this time, G.” She gave him an angry look and he didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes. “What’s a girl gotta do to make time with you?”

“It’s still not right. I want it to be but if I gave in now, it would only be for my own selfishness.”

“So be selfish.”

“I can’t.” 

Couldn’t she see how he cared for her? How he was denying himself for her betterment? She deserved that chance to find something real, not a curious one night stand. If he took her it would certainly be a night to remember if they could find somewhere quiet enough to do it. They’d come together and satisfy mutual desires but what of the morning? What of the moment when she realized what she’d done and walked away? He couldn’t go chasing after her and she couldn’t stay. There had to be something out there for her that was better than a fling with a Watcher.

“I’m sorry. I know I brought this on, in a way. I pray you’ll forgive me.”

“It’d be better if I didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Every time I think I’ve got something about this pegged the rules go and change.” She scooped up her jacket, a scowl on her face. He reached for her and she shied away. “Good talk, G.”

“Faith, wait!”

She was already out the door, stomping away angrily as he groaned, burying his face in his hands. Her kiss still tingled on his lips and he could still remember the scent of her, the feeling of her skin. Just more memories to add to the file, to relive much more than he ever should. Why couldn’t he be selfish? Why not satisfy their mutual urges? Oh, right, because that’s who he was now. He was the stalwart Watcher that watched and guided and took very little for himself in times like this. The world ending left very little room for personal goals. Besides, he still had faith that someday she would find what she was looking for and it wasn’t likely to be in a package like him.


	3. Reunited

“Hello?”

“Oh! Ah, hello Faith. How have you been?”

“Same shit, different day.”

“I trust the Cleveland Hellmouth isn’t nearly so...active.”

“It’s got its kicks, that’s for sure.”

“I had a situation here in London that could use a Slayer. I was hoping I might convince you to come out and stay with me for a little while to help me see it through.”

“Sure thing. I could use a break.”

“It might prove to be difficult.”

“Even better.”

“I can send the tickets out tonight. I hope that Robin won’t miss you too much.”

“Why would he?”

“Oh! I thought surely when you moved to Cleveland with him that you two would, that you were, ah, an item?”

“Couldn’t do it.” He could almost see her shrug over the phone line.

“I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll purchase the tickets tonight and send you the information. I’ll pick you up from the Heathrow tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

The line went dead and he looked at his phone for a very long time, replaying the conversation over in his head. She was a mystery he might never figure out. It went well enough; she had agreed to come help. Though there were literally hundreds of Slayers for him to ask, there was only one he could think of that he wanted to help him, if only to see her again. He should not have let her leave in the first place, but he hadn’t the heart to make her stay. 

He called the airport and placed the order for the tickets, texting her the time and flight number, which was surprisingly technologically savvy for him, before heading to bed. She wasn’t getting in terribly early, but considering the time difference she’d be here early enough that he doubted she would sleep on the plane. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning and dreaming of the things they’d said to one another in private, of opportunities missed that he was certain would never come again. It had been nearly a year since he’d kissed her. He woke up in a cold sweat, panting hard before pushing his fingers through his unruly hair. 

It didn’t take long for him to spot her among the crowd of passengers walking out, being greeted by loved ones with hugs and exclamations. He shifted a bit in front of her, moving for a hug that she didn’t protest but didn’t return, either. He moved to pick up her bag, small considering he’d told her to pack for at least a few weeks stay. 

“I trust the flight was comfortable?”

He’d splurged and gotten her a first class ticket, a surprise for when she arrived at the gate. 

“It was fine. What time is it?”

“About noon. I’ve got a guest room prepared; you look a bit tired.”

“Jet lag is a bitch.”

He chuckled and led her to the parking structure where his car waited. He put her bag in his trunk and guided her to the left passenger seat. 

“You can lean the seat back, try to get some rest.” 

The trip across town wouldn’t take too long, maybe half an hour in poor traffic. It was enough to get a nap in, at least. He pulled onto the highway and watched her go back from the corner of his eye. Even jetlagged she was beautiful and sleep made her as young and untroubled as she should be. He shook his head and moved onto a highway out of town that would let him drive for a while, give her a chance to rest. The stop and go of London wasn’t calling to him now. He took them outside of the city and drove until the lights were well behind them. They reached the countryside outside of Bath and he pulled off onto a dirt road. The bumps woke her, it certainly wasn’t the two hour nap, and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. 

“This doesn’t look like the right place.” 

“I decided against going to London tonight. I have something else in mind. At least for tonight.”

“Where are we?”

“Ah, if we drive just a few minutes west we’d be in Bath.”

“Bath?”

“Yes, like in a tub.” He looked at her. “I have a cottage here.”

“Near a demon nest?”

“No, not as such. We can deal with the demons tomorrow. I have some business to attend to here, and it’s just for the night.”

“Oh.”

She looked out the window as a light rain began to fall, coloring the sky gray. They drove past a large house to a smaller one just beyond. He stopped the car in a loop in the dirt drive and she saw another building between the little cabin and the large house.

“Who lives there?”

“Oh, that’s...that’s the cottage.”

“You’re kidding. That? It doesn’t look like any cottage I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s sort of a silly naming tradition, calling a house that size something small and unimposing. I never much cared for staying there.”

He reached for her bags and picked them up, sliding them onto his shoulder. She got out and stretched, he saw a slim line of her toned stomach beneath her shirt as she did. He tore his eyes away from her just as he turned to look at him. He nodded toward the cabin.

“This was the groundskeeper’s home. I much prefer to stay here when I come around. More my speed, I suppose.”

“Look at you living the high life,” she teased.

“I do my best,” he answered wryly.

Taking her baggage inside, he set it down in what served as the living room. It was a small space, but for just one person she was sure it was ideal. 

“I’ll, ah, sleep on the sofa. You can take the bedroom upstairs, when the time comes.”

“I’d kill for a hot shower.”

“No need for that. The bathroom is next to the bedroom. Just up those stairs and to the right.” He pointed. “This is as good a time as any to take care of business. I’ll be in the main house if you need me.”

“Sounds fine.”

She moved up the stairs and looked around a little bit, taking in the small bedroom that looked entirely too feminine to belong to Giles. The comforter was white and lacy and there were doilies on the bureau. She snorted quietly and moved to the bathroom next door. It was tiny, but she managed, taking one of the towels down and laying it out beside the shower. The hot water did a lot to wash away her fatigue and stress. She stood under the steady stream for a long while, reveling in how it felt to relax. When she finally turned off the water it had cooled significantly. She wrapped the towel around her body and realized her bags were still downstairs. She moved to the stairs.

“G?”

The quiet answered instead of the Watcher. She moved toward her suitcase but the wall opposite her caught her eye. It was comprised of several book shelves built into the wall. It was full, no surprise there, but a few corners held old photos. She crept closer, looking around as if she’d be caught doing something naughty, and picked up one of the closest frames. A pretty but proper woman was holding a young boy. He had a toy plane in one hand and couldn’t have been more than three. “No way,” she breathed. Giles. It had to be. The cheeks were the same, the eyes. She smiled and set it back down, moving on to the next, and then the next. They showed him and his family in various settings, providing a unique insight into his life. 

The last one had the man himself, sitting in a chair, a guitar across his lap. He was laughing, and quite a bit younger.

“I’d just turned twenty, in that one.”

She gasped and whirled around, eyes wide. “Shit!”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He offered a rare grin, chuckling at her reaction. Then his eyes moved down to the towel that covered her. “Shall I go back out?”

“No. It’s fine.” 

She recovered and put the frame back on the shelf, moving to pick up her clothes. She disappeared upstairs and when she came back down again she was dressed. He imagined the towel was probably balled and wet on the floor. A trip up confirmed he was right and he hung it to dry where it went, knowing he would likely always be cleaning up behind the lot of them. It was nothing more than he was used to, and something he resigned himself to. 

“Things will be plenty hard enough once we start on this nest so I won’t make matters worse by making you suffer my attempts at cooking. We can go into town and grab a bite, if you’re hungry.”

They were too far off the beaten path for pizza. She shrugged. He grabbed the car keys and gestured to the door, taking her the few minutes into town. There was an Italian restaurant on the corner, but he found Faith wandering toward the louder, and considerably less posh, pub. It wasn’t somewhere he was entirely unfamiliar with and shook his head as they headed inside. They were really just alike in some ways. The inside air was smoky and the din was quiet as real drinking hours had not yet begun. A few other people were scattered through the space. Once they were seated, their waitress came up with water glasses and recognized him.

“Well, Rupert, I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“I’m not. Not really, only one night. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“You’ve been coming around less and less. I used to be able to count on you for at least one visit a year.”

“Ah,” He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “This is Faith. She’ll be staying with me for a little while.”

“Ruth.” 

The waitress offered a hand, studying the brunette. She gave the Watcher a look that made him turn a deeper shade of red. She arched an eyebrow that wasn’t missed by the Slayer.

“I’m not fucking him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Giles looked equal parts relieved and mortified, before she added. “Though it’s not like I didn’t try.”

He choked on his water.

“Tried myself once upon a time. There’s no accounting for taste, now is there?”

He desperately wanted to hide under the table and it took all of his considerable willpower not to walk out then and there. This was not beginning terribly well. Ruth laughed and brought Faith a beer on the house and chuckled at the alarmingly bright shade of red her companion had turned. He looked at her, stammering, trying to find the words. They were left alone in the booth and he looked a little helpless.

“It was a long time ago, before I came to Sunnydale. I used to stay out here quite a bit by myself and Ruth and I were friends. I just didn’t feel, ah, that way about her.”

“You don’t have to explain.” 

“I want to.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Faith, I want you to understand that I’m human. You saw a bit of my life today in those photographs and I want you to know about me. I’m trying to get to know you, if you’ll let me.”

“Why?”

He sputtered. “Because I feel you’re worth getting to know.”

“I mean why now?”

“We have this opportunity before us. Why should we waste it?”

Ruth came with their food and Faith looked uncomfortable as she took a long pull from her beer. She was not much of the getting to know you type. When the waitress left Faith looked at him and tried to decide if he was pulling her leg or not. It didn’t seem so by his open, earnest expression.

“You know everyone in here thinks we’re related or we’re fucking, right?”

“They know we’re not related.”

“Then that only leaves door number one.”

“I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

Her eyes widened. He gave her a wicked grin, reminiscent of a side of him that she had never meant. Then he tucked into his food, relishing the tastes he had missed so long in California. Even now, a year home, it was still something to savor. Alongside the beer and with the beautiful company he was with it was almost the perfect meal. His enjoyment was put on pause when he noticed she wasn’t eating.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not the food, G.” She paused, crossing her arms and leaning forward on them. “It’s you. All those years it was you and B against the world, thick as thieves. Now suddenly I’m the one you call. I’m the one you want to get to know. Since when do you even know the word fuck, let alone use it in public? You want to know the truth? It feels like a set up.” 

He frowned thoughtfully, considering his answer carefully, lest he make her suspicions any worse.

“This isn’t a set up for anything, I promise you.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m trying to make amends, more than anything. I’m trying to...I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?”

“Right now? A little bit.” 

Silence settled thick and uncomfortable between them. He didn’t feel all that hungry anymore and motioned for Ruth to get them containers to take the food home. He still wasn’t going to let her suffer his cooking or that would be the end of all of this, whatever it was.

“Just tell me you didn’t call me because B couldn’t make it.” 

The look in her eyes spoke of a long standing fear that she would never admit to - to be the substitute for Buffy, still in the other woman’s shadow after all these years. He reached out and touched her hand lightly with his as reassurance. Whatever this was that he was mucking up, it certainly wasn’t that. 

“I called you first, Faith, because I knew you could handle it. And I wanted to see you.” He packed their food and stood, putting down more than enough to pay for the meal. “I could do with a glass of scotch. What about you?”

“Fuck, yes.”


	4. Unexpected Revelations

Giles sat back on the leather sofa and held his glass of scotch without taking a drink. He watched her nestled in the side chair, a throw blanket covering her legs. She was perched on her feet, of course, but he hadn’t the heart to scold her for it tonight. The leather would survive and was cleanable. They sat in silence a while, the bottle of liquor sitting on the table between them. He kept willing her to say something, but she didn’t. She just tossed her beautiful brown hair over her shoulder and drained her glass little by little. 

“What’s your favorite color?”

She laughed, a short surprised sound. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s as good a place as any.”

“Black.”

He chuckled. “I could have guessed that.”

“What’s yours?”

“I prefer green. It reminds me of the woods, the fields in this place. It’s peaceful to me.”

“Peaches.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My dad’s mom lived in Georgia. I guess she felt bad about him bailing on me and my mom because when I was real little she used to invite me to stay with her for a week every summer. It was hot as hell there, but she had this huge peach tree in her backyard. When it began to get dark we would sit on the back porch and eat a peach. She’d sit in her rocker and cut it into pieces for me and the juice would run down my face. Never tasted anything like it since then.” 

He watched in awe as she shared something wholly personal with him and he wondered if she’d ever shared that with anyone before. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the far off look in her eyes and how vulnerable she looked. He could almost see her as a little girl on a back veranda and mourned for the youth she should have had. Her every day should have been as sweet as that and not...well, not what it was. She shook off the memory, returning abruptly to the present. 

“Anyway, I only got to see her a few times. After a while I became too much of a problem for her, I guess. She just stopped calling to invite me and mom said we were better off without her.”

“I’m sorry, Faith.”

“Why? I’m here, aren’t I? What’s the saying? What doesn’t kill you and all that.”

“My grandmother was a Watcher, you know, my father’s mother. She was something of a badass, if truth be told.” He chuckled. “She once told the head of the Council to bugger off when she didn’t agree with him.” 

He laughed then, loud and long, remembering a story he’d heard too many times to count. His grandmother had disagreed with Mr. Chalmers about the best way to deal with a demonic infestation she’d come across. The normally proper English lady had stated her case rather plainly, then passionately, and finally told the man to bugger off when he still refused to see her logic. She did things her way and saved a lot of lives in the process, much to Chalmers chagrin. It had been said a few times that she was where his own stubborn streak came from. It certainly wasn’t his father. The elder Mr. Giles had taken to his calling with hardly an adjustment period. He was a company man if there ever was one and still in opposition with his son who did nothing but challenge and refute the Council once he got a Slayer of his own.

That thought sobered his thoughts a bit until he redirected them back to his grandmother. 

“Roses. She always smelled like tea roses.”

“If you have all this money, G, why don’t you use it?”

“I do, when I need to. It’s rarely been in my nature to be extravagant since I progressed from Ripper to the man you see before you.” 

“I hear that name…”

“You don’t want to know. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to know.”

“From what I hear that guy and me? We would have gotten on.”

“I would have destroyed you, Faith, and been happy to do it. I would have taken everything from you I wanted and left you breathless and weak without a second thought. I knew very little of love or trust and everything of hedonism and destruction.”

“From what I hear he and I would have gotten on,” she repeated, with just a hint of a smirk. 

“With the old you perhaps all too well.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But I would have been no good for you. All I was capable of was using everyone around me to the ends I wanted.”

“You know, you say that a lot: you’re no good for me. No good for me then, no good for me now. Do you think you’re good enough for anyone?”

He turned those piercing green eyes her way and said nothing, raising his glass to his lips and draining the contents quickly. The truth was, she was right. He still didn’t think he was good enough for anyone now, not romantically, a far cry from his younger self. For all his confidence in the remaining areas of his life, in this thing he was still cautious. Maybe it was fear of losing it again as he’d lost or chased away so many others. His glass was empty when he looked back down and she was still watching him quietly.

“I’ve hit a nerve.” She observed. 

“I’ve never met anyone I can make romance work with, Faith. I’ve been offered the chance precious few times and each time it’s ended in disaster.”

“Miss Calendar I know. I mean, I was told.”

He shuddered. “Have they told you about Olivia? Or the incident with Joyce?”

She shook her head. 

“Ah, well, that was just my track record in Sunnydale. It started much earlier with Mildred Pruce, in primary. Carletta DeVeigne in high school. I really thought I loved her; she was lovely. Then my life came crashing down around me with my father and the looming threat of joining the Watchers. She left me and I left home.”

He refilled his glass and stared down into it for a long time, swirling the liquor ever so slightly with one hand. He took a deep breath and thought about his heartbreak over the years. It was a long and varied list with complications and pain to beat the band. 

“Ethan!” He barked a short laugh, taking a long pull from his glass. “Bloody Ethan. I left him. I’d been unprepared for that and any feelings there were dangerous, destructive. Then there was Liliana Barrows, just after I joined the Watcher’s academy. She disappeared after a few years. Came home to find her half of the flat cleared out. I heard she was shagging someone else, but I don’t know. Gave the ring back to my Gran unused.”

“Oh, shit,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“That’s my complete history of romance. Certainly not a shining beacon to live by.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve -”

“Have you ever stopped to think you should give yourself that advice? Just once? I’ve seen you, Faith. Even though you act as if people can come and go I’ve seen you crying out for affection. I’ve seen you, and you deserve it. Unabashedly, you deserve it.”

He set his glass aside, probably buzzed despite being a seasoned drinker. 

“You had Robin on a string and yet you said you couldn’t do it.”

“No.” Her voice had dropped low, barely a whisper. Uncharacteristic. 

“Why?” The question burst forth despite knowing he was pushing her too far. It filled the space between them and she got up, backing away from it as she answered.

“Because I couldn’t get YOU out of my head!”

She threw the glass. It hit the wall and disintegrated, raining shards of broken glass over the floor. He was half up, ready to protest, but her words stopped him dead. The glass was nothing, he could get more. The mess could be cleaned up with a few minute’s time and a broom. It was her look that held his rapt attention and the words ringing in his head over and over again. Her brown eyes pleaded with him not to press and he realized for the first time that she’d been in earnest when she tried to seduce him. It hadn’t been a simple seduction, but a question to accept her for what she was offering, which was more than just her body.

“Oh, Faith, I -” He reached for her, she stumbled back.

“Forget it.”

She disappeared up the stairs so quickly it was almost as if she teleported. He found he didn’t want to follow her this time, his drunken brain finally understanding that he was in no position to make anything better just now. Instead he went to fetch a broom, sweeping up the debris from her glass and cursing how he could have been so stupid. In the end, many hours later, he passed out on the couch snoring lightly from drink.


	5. Awkward and Dangerous

“Faith?”

Giles knocked on the bedroom door, hardly wanting to intrude after the confrontation the night before. If they could have delayed he wouldn’t have hesitated to let her sleep in to her heart’s content but he wasn’t lying when he had said he needed her help. The demon nest wasn’t going to take care of itself and the longer they left it alone the harder that would be, not to mention the potential for them to hurt innocent humans. He heard a thump from inside and a groggy call that she’d be down in a minute. He had coffee waiting since he was certain she wouldn’t be requesting tea. He trailed downstairs as he heard the door yank open. She didn’t speak as she brushed past him and immediately picked up the coffee, knowing it wasn’t there for anyone else.

“How’s your head?”

She shook her head and grunted softly and he could see the blood shot eyes she was sporting. He handed her two of the painkillers he had waiting and she downed them without a second thought. 

“I’ve your things just there,” he indicated the door. “As soon as you’re ready we can go. The drive into London isn’t terribly long.”

“It’ll give me time to wake up, then.”

“Sorry to wake you so early, but I’d like to be able to form a plan and get to that demon’s nest by tonight.”

“Did you sleep?” She turned her head sideways to look at him. 

“Not much.” 

He was used to going without it proven by many sleepless nights doing research. His hangover showed more than his fatigue but he wasn’t the type to complain about it. Nor was he the type to intentionally invite discomfort, despite desperately wanting to know what he could do to fix things from the night before. Instead, he picked up her bags and went to put them in the back of his car while she climbed into the passenger seat. The drive back was excruciatingly long for its silence and the dense wall of air that felt like it was situated between them. She leaned against the door and looked out the window, nursing her coffee in a travel mug. It was a typically dreary day in London, which saved on his headache as the sun couldn’t penetrate the grey skies. That was a blessing at least.

He pulled up to his London townhouse, parking on the street in front of the entry. In some ways it reminded him of the apartment he’d kept for so long in Sunnydale - a miracle considering how trashed the place got on a semi-regular basis. So long as he kept paying to have it fixed, he supposed they were happy to let him stay. Not many would have stuck around after finding a dead woman in their bed.

He shuddered and tried to put that night from his mind. 

“Here we are, home sweet home. For a couple of days, anyway.”

She shrugged and got out of the car, stretching her lithe body as she stood on the sidewalk. Her shirt raised with her arms to show a sliver of her toned stomach and olive skin. He saw a fellow turn to stare as he passed by, nearly colliding into a post to do it. He caught himself staring as well and cleared his throat, opening the trunk to get her bags. He ushered her inside and set her suitcase down, removing his coat to hang on the stand in the entry. Her clever eyes quickly took in everything around her with hardly an indication to tell what she was appraising. He only guessed by the slight movement of her eyes. 

“Your room is upstairs, the second door on the left. You’ll find the bathroom beside it and my room will be down the hall at the end. If you want anything, let me know.”

“I’m five by five.”

Now that was a phrase he hadn’t heard in awhile and hadn’t quite cared to hear. It was indicative of the old Faith, the rebel. He knew then that he’d really upset her.

“Faith,” he ventured, “about last night…”

“It’s nothing. I’m not looking to open that door right now.”

“But what you said, I’d like to -”

“It was said. Too late to take it back now. You and me have no ties. You don’t owe me anything, least of all an explanation.”

“But you don’t understand. It’s more complicated than -”

Again she interrupted, putting her hand up to silence him. “You told me all I need to know. I’m not doing this right now. Maybe not ever.”

He nodded his defeat, letting her go upstairs to become acquainted with her room while he put a kettle on. Even tea had little chance of soothing his frazzled nerves today. He briefly wondered how he had managed to live so long among the female populace while retaining so very little understanding about their makeup and desires. He would have thought as a scholar he might have made better study of them to prevent spectacular failings like this one from occurring. Evidently, he was not likely to ever understand women or be able to interact confidently with them. It made him long a bit for his Ripper days when he took what he wanted without questions asked. Confidence and ease had not been in short supply then, but his heart hadn’t been in it. He had nothing to lose in those days, so he thought. 

He took the teacup into his study and began pulling books from the shelves, placing them neatly on the table as he heard her moving upstairs. He pushed his troubles from his mind and focused on the demons, a much more solvable problem, at least in his eyes. He bent over the book in front of him and began looking for clues on how best to contain the threat and eliminate it with the least amount of danger to the Slayer as possible. He heard the door open and nodded briefly to acknowledge her. His eyes were torn from the page when she pushed him back in the chair and straddled his lap, kissing him passionately. He let out an undignified sound and flailed, only to surrender the moment she asserted that she was in charge here. It seemed the time had come for his dam to break and all of those unvoiced thoughts to come rushing out in a vibrant, carnal flood. 

The fire that he often felt simmering between them roared to life in a blast of excitement and heat. He tugged her as close to his body as he could manage, his hands moving to her hips to slide them forward over his own. There was no backing down this time, no saying no to the delicious feeling of having her here, making her his. The words refused to be formed, let alone said. He knew he had more self restraint than this. He should have been going slow and doling every adoring, sensual thought onto her body. However, his cock rose in his pants under the onslaught of her shifting hips and told him if he did not have her soon, he was likely to burst from wanting. Sensuality would have to wait until he had the benefit of control over his body and coherent thought.

“Faith, my God!” He groaned, his face buried against her neck. 

His lips tasted every inch of skin they could reach until his hands did something exceptionally clever and tugged off her top. The skin they revealed was a wonder and he took to memorizing that with his lips and hands, listening to the deep moans she made. He would drink in a thousand of them and never get his fill. Her hands slid along his body, taking in a body beneath his clothes that he did his best to hide. Under layers of tweed she wouldn’t have expected to feel the muscles strained beneath his skin as he touched her. They rippled as he moved, desperate to bring them together as one at last.

“Giles!” 

He jerked his head up, hitting it on the back of the chair. He saw the Slayer standing over him, looking concerned as he rubbed the newly forming bump on the back of his head. He shifted in his chair, trying to hide the remaining erection under the table. He could hardly look her in the eye and looked back to the book in front of him. He couldn’t remember a word he’d read; everything on the page looked completely foreign. She put her hands on her hips. He noticed finally that she’d changed her outfit and showered. 

“You were asleep.”

“How long was I out?”

“An hour, maybe two.”

“I suppose I needed more rest than I thought.”

He prayed fervently that he had not done anything to tell her exactly what his addled brain had come up with in his dream. Looking at her only made him think of things that were best left in that dream, thinks he’d thought so many times in the past few years. He pressed his hands to the table to avoid allowing them to reach out to her. He looked down at the book and she finally moved away to take her own seat. 

“I wasn’t snoring, was I?”

“Not snoring, no.”

“Something else?” He feigned innocence.

“You were making a wheezing noise.”

“Ah, must have been the angle.”

She shrugged, not caring much. She picked up one of the books and flipped through it, never caring much for research. She hardly participated when they were together, much preferring to be pointed to the danger so she could kick its ass. She toyed with the leather cover in front of her, looking expectantly at him. He had no idea what she wanted and looked back, trying not to blush the hideous shade of crimson he was sure lurking beneath his skin. 

“So, tell me about these demons.”

“Oh!” He scrambled to sit up straighter, pointing to the book in front of him. “They’re Lorokite demons.”

He slid the book toward her, keeping the page open with one hand. She took it and looked down at it dutifully, but didn’t read anything in front of her. She was waiting for him to explain. He cleared his throat and let his brain switch modes, this time successfully. He let everything fall away as he pictured the demons they were supposed to be fighting. 

“Lorokite demons are exceptionally dangerous. They’re small, but they attack in highly coordinated groups to take down their prey and devour it quickly, not unlike pirahanas. I’ve found a breeding ground for them and it’s growing by the day. It’s only a matter of time before the group is large enough to take down full buildings, quarters of the city in their hunger.” 

She nodded and he could see the wheels turning. He admired that about her, her willingness to take things head on when she needed to. He maintained she was a lot smarter than most people realized because she kept her words short and her instincts sharp. He loved that about her and he knew she was the best person to have come to with this problem. It wasn’t going to be an easy problem to overcome; the bottom line was still quite dangerous, but he had reason to believe they would destroy the trouble.

“We can’t underestimate them, Faith. Though they’re small, they’re en masse.” 

“What are you thinking? Seems like dynamite might be a good start.” 

“If we tried that the building they’re nesting under is sure to come down.”

“Flame thrower?”

“Not exactly inconspicuous, but it’s an idea.” 

“What sort of mojo can you work for these guys?”

“Enough to get you in there without the swarming you.”

“They don’t die by magic?”

“Magic large enough to destroy the entire clan would be catastrophic enough to risk the world above.”

“So it’s up to me.”

“I’ll be there beside you.”

She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head. “No, you’re not.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re not going, I mean it. If I go down you call the Slayer squad and you get them here.”

“The weapons are in the closet in the training room, that’s in the basement. I’ll show you.”

By now all evidence of his dream was gone and he got up freely to move around, not thinking about it any further. He led her to the door under the staircase upstairs, leading to the training room sublevel. It had been built for their family with generation upon generation of Watchers. It was well appointed, and her eyes traveled the wall display of weapons slowly, trying to find the right fit for her personality. He suspected he knew what she was going to choose and delighted when she spotted it, lingering on it for a long time. She took it down and he grinned, crossing his arms as she tested its weight, moving it until it was a full extension of her arm.

“I built that, you know,” he offered softly. 

He moved forward and took the axe from her, running his hand over the smooth maple wood. It moved up to run over the smooth, well honed metal head. It was an impressively large head, fanning out from tip to tip a full eighteen inches. He was exceptionally proud of it and it showed on his face as he looked over it. It made him happy that she chose it to use but he blushed and quickly handed it back, trying not to grin too much like a school boy.

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you. I worked on it for years, trying to get everything just right.” 

“I’m looking forward to using it to take out all of those little bastards.”

“Quite right.” 

He looked at his watch, then at the pair of staves in the corner of the room. “We have some time to kill. Would you like me to train with you?”

“Think you can keep up?”

He smiled. “There’s only one way to find out.”


	6. The Demon's Nest

As Giles drug himself upstairs he almost regretted that he had offered to train with her. He was only mortal, after all, and in her quest to “warm up” as she put it, she’d pushed him well past endurance. She appeared languid and ready, prepared for the night ahead. He was almost relieved that she’d told him not to go with her. He wasn’t going to listen, of course, but he’d had the option. She brought the axe upstairs and showered, changing into something that was going to be easy to move in. She strapped her body with weapons, including several knives and a sword. She looked like some sort of ancient warrior, tugging her hair back to be out of her face as she worked. 

“I’ll be connected with you the entire time. If you think even for a moment that you’ve got too much to handle you get out of there.” 

“I’m a big girl, G.”

“I mean it, Faith. Promise me you’ll get out if you feel yourself losing.”

She didn’t say anything as he stared her down and eventually turned her eyes away from his. He was not reassured but didn’t dare press further. She had her pride, after all, and did not admit the possibility of defeat easily. They got into his car and he took them across town toward the part he discovered their nest in. It had been an accident, spotting one of them when he was patrolling on his own in a cemetery near one of the oldest churches in town. Old habits died hard and he’d needed a little excitement. He spotted one of the mature demons darting acros the lawn. It hadn’t spotted him and he followed quietly to its den. Seeing the sheer magnitude of nest he’d known immediately that he needed help clearing it out.

He pulled up to the church and parked, sneaking them both into the cemetery. He was going to stay out and coordinate, ready to drive her home or to the hospital if something went wrong. He also had extra weapons, just in case. As they got to the entrance of the underground system they were nesting in he stopped drawing her up by the wrist. She turned and looked at him questioningly. He handed her an earpiece, something he’d picked up for this particular mission. He put one in his ear that had a microphone attached. She put the other on and asked him with her look if he was satisfied. He nodded.

“Remember, Faith, get out of there if you need to. If sunrise comes and you’re still inside, I’ll call you out of there.”

“I’ll be alright.”

He let her go, taking up somewhere to sit where he could watch the entrance for her. He had his own weapons, just in case a few of the demons were out hunting, but he expected no trouble. 

“Faith, what do you see?”

“I’m underground with a flashlight. I’m trying not to give myself away here.”

He heard a gasp over the line and felt his body tightening. He sat up, his hand straying to a sword without thinking too much about it. 

“Faith?”

He heard sounds of a struggle and the Slayer cursing up a storm. He tried not to blush at the string of swearing coming from her mouth but as long as she was talking, she had to be alright. The chaos died down over a few minutes and he breathed out a sigh of relief when it quieted.

“Faith, are you alright?”

“Five by five, G.”

“What was it.” 

“Hunting party. Nothing too big I can’t handle it. Made some noise, though, so they know I’m here.”

“Be careful.”

“I am.”

That was a lie and they both knew it but he pretended to be comforted by it. She made her way further into the den and he heard a scrape.

“I’m at the main chamber. It’s covered in these demons, G. I -”

He heard more sounds of battle, more cursing in his ears and he encouraged her silently. He listened to the hisses of the demons and the sounds of his axe moving through them. The sounds of the small demons being taken apart made odd squelching sounds in his ear. He heard her growling, heard the scratching sounds of claws on stone. He prayed, knowing she was strong enough to make it through. 

The scream he heard got him on his feet in two seconds, running toward the entrance to the cave. The main chamber lay beneath one of the residential city blocks and he knew he needed to be careful. He threw all thoughts of consequences out the window, running into the cave. He used magic to create light around him, pulling the sword he had from its sheath. Rushing in like Lancelot wasn’t exactly the smartest idea but he needed to protect her at all costs, even his own life. He moved deeper into the cave and heard the sounds of battle getting closer. Magic flared to life around his hands.

“Faith!” 

He saw her on the ground, being swarmed by the demons. He let out a vicious yell, slashing a path toward her through the layers and layers of demons in his way. The blood soaked his clothes, splattered the stone around him. The magic did enough to protect him from the worst of the damage he was taking from the attacking creatures. He scented blood in the air, and it wasn’t just of the demonic variety. Faith was covered in gore and blood, the sickly green of the demon viscera a stark contrast to her own wounds. She moaned as he knelt by her side, being bitten and scratched as he moved to get the damned things off of her. 

“I’m getting you out of here.”

He picked her up, hardly noting that she’d done good work before she went down. The demons didn’t take kindly to their meal being taken away and gathered en masse to take down both humans. Darkness shadowed his jade eyes and magic exploded from around him, scattering the demons in all directions with enough force to kill the ones unlucky enough to hit the walls without buffer. He grabbed his axe, leaving the sword behind as he carried her out of the cavern. The light he was able to conjure with all of that magic use was barely enough to see by but he was willing to take what he could get. It was dodgy that he’d be able to reach the gate without them swarming him again. There were less of them now, but still enough to take him down if they wanted to. With the slayer bleeding out he couldn’t risk it. He needed to run. 

Ducking his head down he focused on the cemetery gates and ran. He could hear them behind him, but he was bigger, had longer legs. He was certainly exhausted, but he could ill afford that now. As he hit the gate he turned and blasted the demons with one last burst of magic, hoping to buy enough time to get through the gate and to his car. If he could load her in, they could get home, or to a hospital. He stumbled against the gate, hitting her body against the wrought iron and cursing softly before apologizing to her unconscious form. He fumbled with the lock before muttering “sod it” and using magic. It wasn’t a great choice, because it added to the fatigue already laying heavily on his body. He yanked the gate open and closed it behind him, carrying her to his car. He shoved the axe in the back and set her gently in the passenger seat, moving as quickly as he could to the other side. He saw the demons in his rearview escaping the gate and charging toward his moving car. Swearing up a storm he’d never let any of the gang hear, he swerved to hit quite a few of them, stepping on the gas to hit them at a speed great enough to do its own damage. 

Leaving them behind, shrieking and giving chase, he debated his options. Faith would hate the hospital, but if her injuries were great enough he couldn’t possibly tend her at home. At home, on the other hand, he wouldn’t have to come up with some lie to cover the extent of her wounds and fill out all that paperwork, not to mention pacing the ghastly sterile halls until someone decided to tell him something about her condition. 

Admittedly, he was not the largest fan of hospitals, either. 

He pulled up in front of his brownstone town home, carrying her up the few steps to make it in the front door. He nearly collapsed under her weight with the night’s events catching up to him. Looking down, he realized that not all of the red blood was Faith’s. Between blood loss and magic he was in poor shape. He moved to his fridge and took out some of the universal blood he kept in there for just these occasions. He set it on the table to begin to warm and carried her upstairs to the bathroom. He apologized to her modesty, if she had any at all, and began to strip her clothes. They were piled in a bloody mass on the floor. She looked worse without any barriers to hide the extent of the damage. She was bitten and bruised, cut by their sharp claws. He shuddered, and then set to work gently cleaning all of the grime from her wounds. It was a long, arduous process that took more hours than he liked to think about but when he was done he had a proper scope of what he was working with an an aching back. 

It took another few hours to stop the bleeding and meticulously bandage every one. She looked like the beginnings of a mummy, wrapped in gauze over large portions of her body. It was now with a serious strain and a long groan that he lifted her, carrying her to his bed. His body protested heavily and he had to lean on the wall twice just to make it the distance from the bathroom down the hall to his bed. Once she was settled he went to the kitchen and grabbed the blood he’d left out, praying it was still viable, and plugged her into it on an IV drip. Only after he was sure she was resting peacefully did he begin to tend to his own injuries. They were less critical than hers, but had been neglected much longer than hers were. He had also aggravated them with all the work he’d done on the Slayer. His socks stuck to his skin with dried blood, causing a fresh flood of it to color his skin as he ripped the fabric away with a stifled yelp. His clothes quickly joined the macabre pile on the bathroom floor and he surveyed his body with a critical eye. 

“Little blighters,” he growled, setting about cleaning and wrapping his own injuries. 

Not too far from being a mummy himself, he dragged his beyond dead body into his bedroom. Faith appeared to be resting and the blood seemed to be draining into her at a good pace. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for the better part of a day but he set his alarm to change her blood bag and renew her sedative. He didn’t want her waking and undoing his hard work. The next day was going to be hell for him, but it was nothing he hadn’t done before in the line of duty. If after twenty four hours it was clear he couldn’t tend her on his own, it was to the hospital they’d go. Until then, it was rest he needed. A long swig from his bedside bottle of scotch made sure he’d fall to sleep quickly though it was hardly necessary. As soon as his head hit the pillow his grateful body sank into oblivion.


End file.
